Tuesday, December 25, 2012

I often sit back and think about what I'll remember about any given time period. In the fourteen years I've been living in Pennsylvania, here are the things, in no particular order, that really stand out for me:

The first sight of my new home, and my future wife Mona, after twenty-four straight hours of driving a U-Haul with a cranky cat in the passenger seat.

Turning on the TV on a September morning and hearing about a plane hitting the World Trade Center, and watching live as another one hit it. And seeing both towers crumble a short time later.

Stopping at a house in Tamaqua, Pennsylvania to see about buying a dog, and watching as the seller opened a cage and this little furry sausage shoot out with her ears flopping like Dumbo on take off. That was our first meeting with little Emiko Marie Meyer, eternal puppy extraordinaire.

Digging a hole in the backyard and placing the lifeless body of my dog Buster in it. Never was there a more faithful mutt.

Watching footage of the remains of the Columbia plummeting to Earth, and agree with John Carpenter and Dan O'Bannon that it was indeed a beautiful way to die.

My wife, having heard chirping outside our living room window, bringing in a tiny gray-and-white kitten that barely covered the palm of one hand, which the mother had abandoned under a bush; and the phone call at work saying she'd found two more; and the months of hand-feeding three little furballs that was so bloody expensive yet so bloody joyful.

Finally getting to see Blue Oyster Cult in concert, after decades of enjoying their music. And wishing that my best friend Dave had been there to raise his beer with me to the strains of "Golden Age of Leather."

How's that for morose holiday remembrances? Yeah, it can be that way sometimes. That's life, and I calls them like I sees them. I really should've been an umpire.

On happier notes, I look at what I've managed to do over this same time period. I've got a family, at least the kind of family I've always wanted. I've got a loving wife and I've got a load of children; they may be furry, but they are my children - anyone out there would be well to remember that. You touch my wife or kids and I will seriously fuck you up.

I've kind of started a new career. Well, at least it's a hobby. This writing thing isn't all that much in the grand scheme of things, since I can't get as serious about it as a lot of writers do, but at least it pays my cable internet bill. And it keeps me off the street. I'm even blogging every week, something I figured I'd never do because I could never think of ever having enough to say to do it regularly.

I've managed to get back in contact with a lot of old friends. By my personal definition of "family," I consider them as such. I hope they appreciate how much I've enjoyed their friendship over the years. My sincerest good wishes to Larry, Jim, and all the others and their families for the coming year.

There have been a lot of new friends as well.

Some have already left, like Johnnie Sninsky and Joe Pinkasavage, two men I feel honored to have been able to know. Johnnie and his son Dennis have, from Day 1, made me feel like I was welcome here in this little town; Walking into the gas station Johnnie ran (and now Dennis runs), it was like I had always been there, part of the gang. Joe was the same, and was such a font of knowledge about the area, and everything, that it is still so hard to to imagine him walking into the station even now.

I've met a lot of people on-line as well, mostly as part of this burgeoning "career" I've started. Like I said, a lot of writers take things real serious; luckily, a lot of them also don't. Dan, Kristina, Kat, Laurie, David, Stephen, Jen, Laura, Erin, Karen, Susan, Jack, Nancy, Cathy, Jennie, Melanie, Jo, Carol, Nickie, Audrey, Nick, Connie, Alice, and all the others I've forgotten and will edit in later after someone sends me a note later, I hope you all have a great year coming up. And thanks for putting up with my eccentricities.

Ten things that people should know about me:

I don't take things seriously. Unless, like Dalton in Roadhouse, it's time to take things seriously.

I make jokes. A lot. And I will joke about anything. So don't take offense. Or go ahead; that's your prerogative and it's no skin off my nose.

I am an agnostic, leaning toward atheism. The hope that I will spend the afterlife fighting Ragnarok with the Justice Society is the only thing that keeps me from going completely anti-deist.

I am a liberal, but I don't like considering myself a Democrat. I also see nothing wrong with Socialism per se, as long as it's purity is maintained.

I mean what I say. I'm not a completely tactless bastard, but I usually call things for what they are.

And this is the single most beautiful piece of music ever written by mankind:

Naturally, that was "mankind" as a whole, and not Mankind, the wrestler.

Have a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa or whatever happens to trip your trigger. Try to look out for each other in the coming year, okay? Remember Karma can be a bitch, so do something cool now and again for somebody else.

Rich Meyer's E-Books

Blog Archive

About Me

Rich Meyer is a freelance writer, editor and reviewer of random stuff. He has written over 30 ebook quiz books, available for the Kindle through Amazon.com (and a few still on Smashwords, pointless endeavor though that may be).
He is a volunteer and member of the Old Time Radio Researchers Group, the National Lum and Abner Society and was a card-carrying member in good standing of the last incarnation of the Mister Ed Fan Club.
Rich's biggest influences have been Frank Zappa, Hunter S. Thompson, William S. Burroughs, Charles Dickens and the Firesign Theatre. He is also an avid comic book aficionado, a fan of Mego action figures since he was a li'l spud, and a collector of classic TV and movie serials on DVD.
Rich also plays annually in the World's Biggest Trivia Contest, broadcast from his hometown of Stevens Point, Wisconsin, on a team known as Collective Foole.
Rich lives in Pennsylvania with his lovely wife Mona and their menagerie of furry children.